Lyrics Владимир Ланцберг - Художник
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Тонкими мазками, осторожно,
Раздуваю тучи, разгоняю воду.
Я сегодня занят, я художник.
Я рисую город, в непогоду.
Я сегодня занят, я художник.
Я рисую город, в непогоду.
Вот эта улица, вот этот дом,
Вот остановка под самым окном.
В сером плаще - это я за углом,
Поздно и холодно. Что ж ты медлишь?
Тонкие антенны задрожали,
Фонари под тяжестью дождя согнулись.
Греются на кухнях горожане,
Прячась от печали, стылых улиц.
Греются на кухнях горожане,
Прячась от печали, стылых улиц.
Вот эта улица, вот этот дом,
Вот остановка под самым окном.
Всё воплощении - это я за углом
Поздно и холодно, ну что ж ты медлишь?
Может, я придумал, все нарочно,
И зима смеется, а осень плачет.
Лучше бы, конечно, солнце утром,
Только в жизни все иначе.
Лучше бы, конечно, солнце утром,
Только в жизни всё иначе.
Вот эта улица, вот этот дом,
Вот остановка под самым окном.
Всё воплощении - это я за углом
Поздно и холодно, ну что ж ты медлишь?
Thin strokes, carefully,
I am blowing up the clouds, I am dispersing the water.
I'm busy today, I'm an artist.
I paint the city, in bad weather.
I'm busy today, I'm an artist.
I paint the city, in bad weather.
Here is this street, here is this house,
Here is a stop right under the window.
In a gray cloak - this is me around the corner,
Late and cold. Why are you slow?
Thin antennas shook,
Lights under the weight of rain bent.
They warm themselves in the kitchens of the townspeople,
Hiding from the sadness, chilly streets.
They warm themselves in the kitchens
Hiding from the sadness, chilly streets.
Here is this street, here is this house,
Here is a stop right under the window.
All incarnation is me around the corner
Late and cold, why are you hesitating?
Maybe I thought up, all on purpose,
And winter is laughing, and autumn is crying.
It would be better, of course, the sun in the morning,
Only in life is different.
It would be better, of course, the sun in the morning,
Only in life is different.
Here is this street, here is this house,
Here is a stop right under the window.
All incarnation is me around the corner
Late and cold, why are you hesitating?
I am blowing up the clouds, I am dispersing the water.
I'm busy today, I'm an artist.
I paint the city, in bad weather.
I'm busy today, I'm an artist.
I paint the city, in bad weather.
Here is this street, here is this house,
Here is a stop right under the window.
In a gray cloak - this is me around the corner,
Late and cold. Why are you slow?
Thin antennas shook,
Lights under the weight of rain bent.
They warm themselves in the kitchens of the townspeople,
Hiding from the sadness, chilly streets.
They warm themselves in the kitchens
Hiding from the sadness, chilly streets.
Here is this street, here is this house,
Here is a stop right under the window.
All incarnation is me around the corner
Late and cold, why are you hesitating?
Maybe I thought up, all on purpose,
And winter is laughing, and autumn is crying.
It would be better, of course, the sun in the morning,
Only in life is different.
It would be better, of course, the sun in the morning,
Only in life is different.
Here is this street, here is this house,
Here is a stop right under the window.
All incarnation is me around the corner
Late and cold, why are you hesitating?